


Fall Into Dark

by Maimat



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maimat/pseuds/Maimat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Because I believe in you, that's why. Maybe you should try it sometime." After getting attacked in an alley, Murphy doubts his sanity, and Connor must choose between his brother and reality as he knows it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall Into Dark

Fall Into Dark

 

Story: Fall Into Dark  
Storylink: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8807906/1/  
Category: Boondock Saints  
Genre: Supernatural/Hurt/Comfort  
Author: Rat  
Authorlink: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/280284/  
Last updated: 03/01/2013  
Words: 20031  
Rating: M  
Status: Complete  
Content: Chapter 1 to 9 of 9 chapters  
Source: FanFiction.net

Summary: "Because I believe in you, that's why. Maybe you should try it sometime." After getting attacked in an alley, Murphy doubts his sanity, and Connor must choose between his brother and reality as he knows it.  
*Chapter 1*: Gone

Murphy didn't come home.

It wasn't a big deal. Connor yawned and sat up. So what if the mattress across from his was empty. That was fine. Murphy had been pissed off at something the night before, Connor didn't even didn't even know what. Murphy needed was some time to himself; fine.

The night before it was obvious something was wrong but Connor didn't think it had anything to do with him. It wasn't like they never argued or fought about anything, but Connor couldn't think of anything recent the other man would be pissed off about, and Murphy certainly hadn't said anything. The pub wasn't the place to start asking questions about it, Connor figured it could wait til morning. He'd left early while Murphy was still drinking.

Connor lit himself a smoke and went about his routine. It was true, Murphy could get into moods where everything and everyone pissed him off constantly. He always came around and apologised for being an asshole. It didn't normally take this long. And Connor was determined not to let it get to him. If Murphy wanted to talk, he'd talk.

He got himself some breakfast, figuring that by lunch Murphy would be back and they'd go grab some lunch over at that sandwich place down the road. He had stuff to do anyway, but he waiting until two o o'clock and he was fucking hungry. He'd go get his fucking lunch on his own dammit.

He almost ordered two plates just out of habit and spent the time reading the newspaper. It was kind of weird being on his own. It didn't happen often. He knew he should take advantage of the peace and quiet while it lasted. He loved Murph, but his brother could be spectacularly annoying at times.

And when he got back to the apartment and his brother still wasn't there, Connor started feeling kind of peeved. The bastard could at least call.

They'd had plans to head over to the ballpark today. So much for that. Connor figured he should just go without him. He had friends of his own. And he would go too. He would. But he'd wait a little while longer just in case.

Connor didn't go. He turned on the tv and lost track of time watching nothing.

The phone rang just after five pm. Connor glared at it while it rang and considered not answering it at all. He grabbed it on the fifith ring. "Yeah?"

"Hey."

Connor glared at the opposite wall. "You been sleeping off a hangover all day?"

"You okay?" Murphy asked.

Soemthing wasn't right. Murphy sounded tired, but there was more to it than that. His voice sounded hoarse and the tone was all wrong. There was no edge to it; his brother sounded vulnerable. "Yeah, course I am. Murph, are you okay?" There was no immediate answer. "What hey? Where'd you got to last night?"

"I don't remember getting here."

The tone of his brother's voice tightened that vicegrip around Connor's heart all the tighter. "Where are you?"

"Uh… Saint Mikes."

"The hospital? What are you doing there?"

There was silence on the other end for a moment. "You'll come?" He heard his brother say something away from the phone.

"Yeah, of course. Where?" Connor listened to more hushed tones speaking in the background and then the line went dead.

Saint Mikes was across town. Connor took the subway, cursing because it was rush hour and the damn train was full and no one moved fucking fast enough, and the brief phone conversation replayed over and over in his head.

*Chapter 2*: Found

Connor stopped at the administration desk, and hopped up to look over the counter to get the attention of the woman sitting behind there.

She glared at him. "Yes."

"I got a call from my brother that he's here. Murphy MacManus."

She looked up a bit more. "Are you family?"

"My brother. He called but he didn't tell me where to find him."

"Name?"

Connor sighed and bit down his temper. "Murphy Macmanus."

"I'm sorry sir, we don't have any patients by that name. Are you sure he's a patient here?"

"He told me this is where he is. Look again. Please"

A janitor working nearby watched the conversation and stepped closer. He smiled at the woman at the desk and she frowned back at him. "He called you?"

Connor nodded.

"Maybe they didn't get his name when he came in. Look under John Doe." The janitor suggested. The woman behind the counter let out a long suffering sigh.

She typed some information in her computer and sighed again just to show how inconvenienced she was with the whole task. "I'll have to call the nurses desk to confirm." She picked up the phone. In the mean time the janitor, his nametag read George, walked around and looked over her shoulder at the computer screen.

"Room 315." He said.

The woman glared at him. "Visiting hours ended an hour ago." She called out as Connor ran off.

He took the stairs. Third floor, he headed past the nurses desk and quickly read the numbers over the doors along the hall. 307-311, 313-315. He poked his head in. There were ten beds in the room lined up on either side. A few of them were curtained off. Murphy's wasn't. Connor spotted him immediately in the third bed from the window.

Ah fuck.

He stepped up to the right side of his brother's bed.

Murphy turned his head awkwardly. "Hey come to this other side."

Connor did what his brother asked, and ended up crowded by the IV pole. Connor took a deep breath and tried to think of something to say. Just the sight of it... He understood why Murphy preferred him on this side, his other eye was swollen shut and a dark purple in colour, the bruising covered about a third of his face, from his eyebrow to his ear.

There were so many questions, a lot of them self evident. Murphy obviously wasn't okay, he wouldn't be in the fucking hospital if he was.

"What the hell happened?"

Murphy reached up and grabbed Connor's hand. "Did you bring me a smoke?" There were bandages around Murphy's wrists and his hand was bandaged. The left hand. It looked like the same kind of bandage Murphy wore after dislocating his thumb. His forearm, from the sleeve of the hospital gown to his bandaged wrist was covered in bruises. Connor also noticed there weren't any bruises on his brother's knuckles.

"No, Murph, you can't smoke here." Connor tried to keep his voice light, but he could feel his hands shaking. "What happened?"

"I heard one of the nurses say I got hit by a car. All I know is I woke up here and they won't tell me a fucking thing." Murphy shifted slightly wincing while trying to find a better position.

"They won't tell you? Why not?"

Connor could see the exact moment Murphy tuned him out, his good eye shifted towards the ceiling and he squinted a bit. "Hey, Murph?" The way his brother turned and looked at him sent chills down Connor's spine. He'd never seen Murphy so out of it before.

"Did you bring me some smokes, Conn?"

"Can't smoke in here." Connor reminded him again. He watched Murphy's eyelid flutter and close. He ran a finger along Murphy's arm and thought about what his brother said. He gently pulled back the tape on the bandages around his brother's wrist. The cuts formed a circular band around his brother's wrist. Getting hit by a car didn't cause injuries like that. Connor had scars of his own like that from being cuffed to a toilet. He replaced the bandage and gently placed his brothers hand back on the bed.

Hit by a car? No.

A nurse walked by and did a double take when she saw Connor.

She smiled. "Are you Connor?" She eyed him for a moment and then nodded, coming to her own conclusion. "Murphy was worried about you."

Connor squeezed his eyes shut and felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He hadn't been worried. They were twins. He should have felt it. All his life he knew instinctively when Murphy was hurt or sick or whatever, he could feel it. But not this time. "No one called."

"Your brother was brought in without ID."

"What happened to him?"

There it was, a sad smile that meant only bad things. "There's a concussion, and it took longer for him to regain consciousness than we're comfortable with but the CT scan didn't show any intracranial bleeding." Connor felt like he could barely breathe. "The police are going to need to speak with you."

"But what happened?"

"I wasn't here when they brought him in. I'm sure the detective will fill you in when he speaks to you. It's past visiting hours, but I'll let you stay and visit for now so long as you don't make a disturbance. When you get caught, just don't let on I knew you were there." She winked and pulled the curtain closed, concealing Connor in the small space with his brother.

Connor wrapped his fingers around his brothers hand and carefully sat on the edge of the bed. Murphy woke up and slowly wiggled away as much as he could to make room. "Don't get tangled." He said and moved the hand with the IV out of the way. Connor lied down beside him so that they were face to face.

"Sorry I wasn't here for you." Connor whispered.

Murphy closed his eyes again. "You are here."

Connor touched his brother's face lightly. "Yeah. I'm here. Murph, did the detective talk to you yet?"

"Did you bring me a smoke?"

Again with the cigarette? Connor wondered just how crazy Murphy was making the nurses by now. "No smoking in the hospital. You're concussed."

"Thought something happened to you."

"Why would you think that?"

Murphy closed his eyes for a moment. "I can't remember."

Connor traced the letters for brother on Murphy's hand. "You've a concussion. It's normal to be confused."

"I thought they killed you."

"Who's they?"

"Can't fucking handle thinking you're dead."

"I'm fine. Just rest."

*Chapter 3*: Suspects

Connor returned as soon as visiting hours started the next day and walked in just as an older man in a tan coat was walking out. Murphy was laying still, starting up at the ceiling lost in his thoughts.

"You doing okay?" Connor asked.

Murphy sat up and nodded. "I'm okay. You just missed Detective Sobel."

"What did he say?"

Muprhy shrugged. "Not much. What the hell, Connor? How can I not fucking remember any of it?"

Connor put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We'll sort it out." He promised, but Muprhy didn't seem consoled. "Did he at least say anything about what happened?"

"No, not a fucking thing. Why won't anyone tell me anything?"

Connor shrugged.

"I want a cigarette."

Connor nodded. "I'll see what I can do to get you out of here."

Murphy turned his eyes back up at the ceiling, and Connor could practically see him fuming.

"How's your head today?"

"Pounding. I need to get out of here."

Connor could see his brother wasn't lying. Murphy had never been able to stay in one place for long and this seemed no different, but then Connor doubted Murphy would be any happier resting at home. "Want me to go find out what I can?"

Murphy sighed. "You think they'll tell you?"

"I don't know." Connor glanced towards the hall. "I'll see what I can do."

He met the detective standing just outside the door, apparently waiting for him.

"You're the brother?" The man asked in a slight Boston accent. He extended his hand in greeting. "Detective Sobel. I already talked to Detective Duffy and he brought me up to speed on your file. Self defence, huh? How about we talk down the hall in the patient lounge?"

Connor followed him into the small empty room at the end of the hall furnished with a ratty old couch, a couple of metal folding chairs, and a fourteen inch TV. He waited for Connor to enter and then locked the door behind them and sat down on one of the folding chairs. Connor grabbed the other chair and placed it across from him. "Do you know what happened to my brother?"

The detective frowned slightly and cocked his head to the side. "Seems like the two of you made quite the impression down there but then it's not every day you see a toilet listed as the murder weapon. Must have been quite the case." He smiled. "I need some information about our victim. Maybe you can help me out?"

"The victim?"

"General information, just cross referencing for the records to make sure everything is up to date, that sort of thing." He opened a notebook and held a pencil ready. "Family?"

"Just me. We're twins."

"He got a wife? Girlfriend? Kids? You got parents?"

"Our mother's in Ireland."

"How 'bout friends?"

"Yeah, we have friends." Connor answered evasively.

"Job?"

"We work at the meat plant."

"Whole lot of we's. What's your address?"

"We're roomates."

"Sounds like you share everything except getting attacked late at night. He seemed pretty sure you were with him."

"Last night he said he heard one of the nurses say he'd been hit by a car. So, he was attacked? I went home early. Who attacked him? Why aren't you telling him anything about what happened?"

"Where were you last night?"

"We were at the pub down the street from our place. Murphy was still there when I left." Connor answered numbly. "Who attacked him?"

Detective Sobel sighed and dug a piece of gum out of his pocket. "Seems convenient, don't it? The victim doesn't remember the attack. I'm not looking to bust you boys for anything. Whatever you were doing, that's your business, right? All I'm looking for is who hurt your brother. Why don't you just make life easier on everyone and just tell me everything you know?"

"I don't know anything."

"Sure... So where did you go after the bar?"

"Home, I went to bed. How is this helping find who did this to my brother?"

"Must be hard sometimes, living with your brother. You boys have any disagreements lately?"

"No."

"Looks like the other guy got the drop on him. The examiner said it doesn't look like he got a chance to put up much of a fight. Most of the wounds are defensive rather than offensive."

"They mugged him?" Connor asked.

"Either of you boys piss someone off lately? Other than the Russian mob?"

"No. No one I know of." Connor bit back his impatience and frustration.

"Do you have any idea what he was doing around there?"

Connor nodded. "It's on the way home."

The detective nodded. "Was he alone?"

"I already told you I left early."

The detective shrugged. "I'm thinking it could be a revenge thing for those two Russians you boys killed in the alley. It would make my job a hell of a lot easier if the victim would cooperate."

Connor wouldn't put it past his brother to be uncooperative with this asshole detective, but that wasn't the case here. Murphy had a concussion, what right did this asshole have to call him uncooperative? "He doesn't remember. How does having a head injury equal uncooperative?"

The detective ignored the comment. "You want us to find who did this, don't you? It wasn't some random mugging. It's good to rule out family and friends first. Too often we see these things done by someone the victim knows."

"His name is Murphy." Connor reminded him.

"The medical examiner figures the victim was taken down with a Tazer, something quick, before dragging him into the building. At four am he ran out into the street and right into the path of a cab, but there's no timeline yet on when the assault began. Our only witness other than the victim, is the driver of the cab. From the looks of the crime scene you're lucky this isn't a homicide investigation." The detective looked at the wall across the room for a moment before continuing. "You boys into the occult?"

"What? No." Connor answered. "What are you talking about?"

"And how about your brother? He run with anyone like that?"

"No. What does the occult have anything to do with this?"

"And what about your tattoo's?"

Connor glanced at his arm. "We're Catholic."

"So, you're sure you can't think of anyone who'd want to hurt him?"

"No."

The detective sighed and passed Connor his card. "That room was set up to look like something out of a horror movie. Maybe Satanists. Russian Satanists?" He shrugged. "You think of anything else, or if that brother of yours ends up not being as brain damaged as he seems, give me a call."

Connor watched the detective walk down the hall before returning to Murphy in the room.

He told Murphy everything the detective had said.

"Russian satanists? Is he insane?" Murphy snorted. "Anyway the fucking Russians would have just put a bullet in my head."

Connor couldn't disagree.

A nurse stepped in and worked with a patient a couple beds away, and Connor felt his brother tense.

"You okay?"

Murphy stared at her, and squinted his good eye, looked away and looked back again. "Does she look weird to you?"

Connor looked at her. She looked like a nurse. "No. What do you mean?"

"Just... it's kind of like the room is darker over there."

Connor looked again. The room wasn't any less dark in that direction.

"It's not a big deal." Murphy assured him. "Just kind of weird."

Apparently it was a big deal. Connor told the nurse what Murphy told him; the nurse told the doctor, and the doctor ordered tests.

Connor stayed for as long as they let him, and Murphy kept a firm hold of his brother's hand the entire time. "You're going to be okay."

Murphy nodded. He watched the nurse come closer, and then looked at Connor and back at her again. "They think there's something wrong with my brain, but if that's what it is, wouldn't the dark spot stay in one place?"

"I don't know, Murph."

"Watch the nurse when she comes back in. There's something wrong with her. It follows her around." Murphy whispered.

"What follows her?"

"The shadow. It's like the light can't reach her." She walked back in to attend to another patient. Murphy watched her closely. "Don't you see her face?"

"She's a pretty girl, Muprh. There's nothing wrong with her face."

"Don't you see it? It's like, she's got makeup on from a movie or something."

Connor looked at her again. She wasn't wearing any makeup at all. She smiled in their direction. "I have to take your brother's blood pressure before we take him for the CT scan." She pushed the cart beside the bed. "Can I have your arm please?"

Murphy didn't move. Connor nudged him. She reached out and touched his shoulder, and it was like a switch was flipped. Murphy flinched away and practically jumped out of the bed. Tubes, wires, injuries, and Connor be damned, nothing was keeping him where he was. Connor jumped up and tried to grab his brother's hand, but Murphy managed to pull his IV out before Connor could stop him.

"Don't you fucking come near me." Murphy held the IV needle he pulled out of his hand like a weapon, threatening the woman in front of him.

"What the hell, Murph?"

Connor did grab his brother's arm this time and roughly pulled the needle away and tossed it beside the bed.

"Don't you see it?"

"See what?"

The nurse ran out of the room, and Connor could hear her yelling for someone to cal security.

"She had death on her, it was dripping from her hands. I don't want her touching me."

"She's gone. Okay?" Connor could feel his brother shaking. "Relax."

There were nurses coming in the room, Security guards dressed in grey and black grabbing his arms. One of the nurses injected something into Murphy's arm, and there was only time enough to look at his brother's face before his eyes closed and he passed out.

*Chapter 4*: Hold On

Day one. The screaming from somewhere down the hall started again, lasting for nearly a minute, and then stopped, only to start again a few minutes later.

What the fuck was this? How long were they going to make him wait out here?

After the incident the day before, the hospital moved Murphy to what they called a more secure area. Right. They moved him to the psych ward is what they did. Connor didn't even know what they'd done until arriving for visiting hours today and finding Murphy's bed taken over by a new patient.

All he could do was listen to the noises going on down the hall and think that Murphy was in there somewhere. He needed to see his brother and make sure he was okay. He should have just grabbed his brother and dragged him out while he'd had the chance. Instead, here he was sitting in the damn hall waiting to meet with a fucking doctor who probably wasn't going to show up anyhow.

"Mr McManus?" A man walked up and asked, his name tag read Dr Reuben.

Connor stood up. "You're going to take me to see my brother?"

"I'll take you to him." The doctor smiled. He swiped his security card and entered the door beside the nurses desk. It was just a long yellowish hall and unmarked doors. The fifth door down he stopped and opened a door, then stepped back as in invitation for Connor to enter.

The room was small. There was only the bed in the corner, a small table and a chair.

Murphy was laying down. Connor walked in, and the doctor entered behind him.

"The CT scan was clear. There is no intracranial bleeding, no swelling." The doctor explained. "There are other issues that need to be addressed. You're brother is suffering from acute visual and auditory hallucinations."

Connor sighed. Murphy looked worse than the day before, pale with dark circles under the eye that wasn't swollen.

Murphy didn't sit up, he stayed laying down and looked at Connor for a while, and then at the Doctor. Connor could see the tension in his brother, and the obvious effort it was taking for him to stay calm.

"I don't want to be here, Conn."

Connor felt guilty and worried all at once. He just wanted Murphy to get better.

Murphy tried keeping his attention focused on Connor, but his eyes kept drifting over to the doctor. For a moment he seemed to lose focus, his eyes looking up slightly and twitching.

Connor put his hand on his brother's leg. "Murphy?"

Murphy's eyes closed for a moment, he couldn't catch his breath.

The Doctor frowned, but stayed standing back, observing.

"Don't you fucking see it?" Murphy grew more agitated by the moment.

Connor sat on the edge of the bed. "See what? You need to calm down."

"I'm not going to fucking calm down Connor. There's blood all over him, on his hands."

"There's no blood, Muprh."

"It was on him when he walked in."

Connor glanced back at the doctor. All he saw was a man with greying hair in a white doctor's coat. "You see it now?" Connor asked.

Murphy glanced over quickly. "No."

"Think about that. No blood anywhere. Where did it go?"

Murphy went quiet. He started biting his nail. "There was blood on him when he walked in, but it wasn't this room. The room was blue, and it was a living room, not a room like this. I was somewhere else." He said softly.

"In your head." Connor repeated.

Murphy nodded, and he understood. "Fuck."

"You're brother is very ill." The doctor said softly.

Connor nodded.

Murphy tried to look anywhere but at the doctor. He focused on his brother. "Don't leave me here Conn."

"What's wrong with him?" Connor asked the doctor.

The doctor seemed to consider it. "It takes time to reach a diagnosis. However, symptoms like these are common in several disorders."

"Do you think you can help him?"

"I assure you that we'll try."

Connor reluctantly nodded. Doctor Reuben explained the process for clinical observation, Murphy had to stay in the ward for three days, during which time he would be evaluated and a recommendation would be made. Connor wasn't sure how much of it Murphy was hearing. Murphy kept his focus only on Connor.

"Can I stay with him for a while?"

The doctor nodded compassionately. "Of course. I will let the nurse know." He walked out and closed the door behind him.

"Don't let them keep me here, Conn." Murphy said again.

"It's only for a few days, you'll be alright." Connor promised.

...

Day two. Connor was waiting when visiting hours started at one. A nurse brought him to Murphy's room. Murphy was sitting up, but quiet. The silence felt awkward. It was weird seeing Murphy dressed in the thin white pajamas, and he wondered if his brother was cold. Murphy was always cold, always wearing long sleeves or a hooded sweater layering clothing as necessary.

"You look tired. Did you get any sleep?"

Murphy shook his head. "Nightmares."

"You've been through a lot." Connor said unhelpfully.

Murphy nodded.

"Detective Sobel came to the apartment this morning. He took a DNA sample to compare with some blood they found at the scene. He had a fucking court order." Connor explained. "He said he would talk to you again today, ask you some more questions."

Murphy looked at his bandaged wrists briefly before looking back up.

"I don't remember. But it was more than just a stupid mugging, wasn't it?"

"Seems that way." Connor agreed.

"My head aches all the time. It's like there's something inside ripping apart my brain."

He tried to draw Murphy into conversation, but his brother seemed to barely have even enough energy to look in his direction let alone respond to anything he was saying.

Connor rambled on about nothing in particular just trying to fill in the silences with something other than uncomfortable silence while Murphy just sat on his bed staring at the wall opposite.

Visiting hours ended too soon, and at four pm when he left, Murphy watched him go and still didn't say a word.

...

Day three. When Connor was let into Murphy's room he was afraid it would be more of the same. Murphy still looked like he hadn't slept much but he looked more off balance. His brother been laying down and sat up when Connor was let in. Connor choose to sit on the end of the bed, it felt less formal than sitting in the plastic chair bolted to the ground. Connor wondered how much time Murphy spent alone. There weren't any distractions in the room, no television or magazines or anything. He knew his brother didn't do boredom or inactivity well, even when he was ill, and it was just another thing on the whole list of things that didn't feel right about leaving Murphy in this place. "This is your last day of observation. I'll take you home tomorrow."

"I'm sorry." Murphy said seriously.

It wasn't a good start. Connor cringed inside, not sure he wanted to even know what his brother was talking about. "What for?"

"For everything." Murphy reached out a shaking hand and grabbed onto Connor's wrist. "Everything."

"What's going on with you, Murph?"

"I've been dreaming, and thinking. And I'm sorry." Murphy said again.

Connor didn't have a fucking clue. "Murph?"

There wasn't any answer, but Murphy was holding onto the bed sheets so hard his knuckles were white. He rocked back and forth slightly and stared at Connor. "Remember the cellar? I've been thinking about that summer we helped out at the pub."

"What are you thinking on that for?" Of course he remembered the fucking cellar. They'd gone down there to hide out and have a cigarette. He had told Murphy to hold onto the door, but Murphy got distracted and the fucking door swung closed. The handle on the inside was broken, and they couldn't get the door open. It took two days for their uncle to find them. Connor remembered the thirst more than anything. They'd both been convinced they were going to die, and Connor remembered Murphy begging his forgiveness over and over again. Of course he'd been pissed off at the time. He said horrible things to his brother because he was angry and he was scared, and then he forgave him. He should have told Murphy why the door needed to be held open. He shouldn't have asked Murphy to hold the door in the first place.

"I'll try harder. Don't leave me in here, Conn." He broke down for a moment before regaining control.

For the first time Connor noticed a black bracelet on Murphy's arm just above his elbow. Murphy rubbed at it for a moment. "If I'd been more careful. Fuck. All the stupid shit I do and what comes from it. I know you're ready to be done with it. I don't know how long I can hold on."

"Hold on to what?"

Murphy shuddered. "Myself, Conn. It's like there's something inside and trying to rip me apart. Fuck, I can't do this alone."

"You're not alone, don't say that." Connor promised.

Murphy nodded though Connor doubted he was listening.

"Murphy, please." Connor tried to catch his attention. "You're not here cause I'm mad at ye or cause I don't want to take care of you or whatever it is you're thinking. You're seeing things that aren't there and I'm worried about you. They're keeping you for observation, that's all. You're coming home with me tomorrow and we'll figure something out. Maybe it's just stress."

Murphy went back to biting his nail, and Connor could see his brother's fingers were raw from biting. "There's something wrong with the doctor, Conn. He's got blood on him."

His brother was off balance from being attacked. Anyone would be. He just needed some time. "Don't do anything stupid, I'm taking you home tomorrow. Just cooperate with the doctors and let them help you. It'll be fine."

"I'll try." Murphy agreed.

Connor felt like a traitor when he said good bye. Just the look in his brother's eyes as he walked out felt like a knife in the heart.

...

Day four. They wouldn't let him back in. Connor arrived for visiting hours, and the receptionist told him flat out. "I'm sorry to inform you, Mr McManus had a violent episode yesterday evening and is currently undergoing specialised treatment."

"I'm taking him home today."

"The review board has extended hospitalization."

"I need to see my brother." Connor insisted.

She sighed and called the doctor. He greeted Connor within fifteen minutes.

"What happened?"

The Doctor gave Connor a steady look, a slight frown and phoney concern reflected in his eyes. "There was an incident yesterday evening. Your brother is suffering from paranoid delusions. He attacked an orderly. We won't be pressing charges, but your brother is very ill and we cannot permit him to be released until his condition is stabilised. We are doing everything in our power to help him, but unfortunately his condition has been deteriorating since his arrival. We can't allow you to see him today."

Day five. The desk nurse told him the same thing. They were doing everything they could to stabilize Murphy's condition, but there could be no visitors while he was in active treatment. He headed back downstairs and saw a familiar face along the way, George. The janitor who'd helped him out the first day he'd come to the hospital. The one who told him where to find Murphy.

"How's your brother?" George asked, and frowned at the look on Connor's face. "Come share a smoke with me? I'm on my break right away."

Connor nodded. He followed George downstairs to the staff lockers and then out to the smoking doors.

"They aren't allowed to deny family from visiting patients." George informed him.

"What?"

George told Connor what he needed to do.

It took some time to track down the correct pamphlet citing the regulation he needed, and by then visiting hours were over.

Day six. He was prepared. Connor was back upstairs, and handed the paper to the desk nurse. "I'm here to see my brother. Murphy McManus." He said.

She looked over the paper and paged the doctor.

Doctor Reuben looked over the paper, Connor could see he was familiar with it.

"These regulations do not take into account the well being and best interests of our patients. It will be a disturbing visit for the both of you and it has every potential of setting back everything we are working towards. Your brother has had a very difficult time adjusting. But, if you don't care about your brother's mental health, I don't have the power to stop you." Doctor Reuben warned.

Connor stood his ground. "I want to see Murphy."

"Follow me." The doctor led him down the hall, and into a different area. It was a patient room without the bed, small, but with a table in the middle and plastic chairs bolted to the floor. The doctor told Connor to wait there. Connor waited for a half an hour, and then finally an orderly opened the door and led Murphy inside. He was walking awkwardly, limping slightly on his left side. He wore only a thin patient gown tied at the back and his hair was damp. The orderly walked him up to the table and left to stand just outside the door. As soon as they were alone, Murphy looked pointedly up at the camera in the corner of the room, then reached over and grabbed Connor's hand. He whispered in Gaelic.

It was a psalm they'd learned in Catholic school. Murphy stopped half way through. He didn't go on. Psalm 42.

Connor glanced at the security camera, and then kept his eyes on Murphy. He had to clear his throat before speaking. "Murph." He said in English. "You're not making sense."

"This place, Conn, you have no idea."

"The doctor said..."

"Fuck the doctor." Murphy slammed his hand down on the table. He was about to say more but the door opened and the orderly stepped inside.

Connor registered look of fear that flashed over his brother's face before it was gone, hidden.

The orderly stepped forwards and Connor watched Murphy force himself to relax. "Give me a minute to pray with my brother. Right, Conn?" He said.

Connor nodded his agreement. "It's fine." He assured the other man. The orderly rolled his eyes and stepped back out into the hall but left the door open.

Murphy took Connor's hand from across the table again, holding on tight. He whispered the words again in Gaelic, the same ones he'd said before. "By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me- a prayer to the God of my life." And again he waited.

"May God be with you and grant you peace. Amen." Connor finished. "You need to get better. Let the doctors help you."

His brother leaned forward, resting his forehead on the table and squeezed Connor's hand one last time before letting go. When he looked up his eyes were wet. Murphy turned to see the orderly moving towards him and sat back up. "Can we have more time?" He asked the orderly, and then looked back to Connor. "Come back tomorrow?"

Connor took a deep breath. "The doctor recommended against it. They want to give you some time to adjust, so my visits won't be so upsetting to you."

"No." Murphy said quickly. "No, no. You're not upsetting me." He glanced again at the orderly who was standing close now and turned back to Connor. "You'll be back tomorrow?"

"Doctor Reuben..."

"No. Fuck this shit. Conn, you can't just..." He stood up and backed into the orderly who caught him by the arm. He was moving slowly and was in no condition to defend his self. Connor watched Murphy look over to him, pleading for help, and Connor didn't move.

The orderly twisted Murphy's arm around his back and Connor practically had to hold onto the table to keep from jumping to his brother's defense. The Doctor walked in next, he nodded to Connor and then instructed the orderly. "Safely secure Mr McManus in his room, I will be along to evaluate the situation." He turned to his patient. "Please Mr McManus, calm yourself. We will continue therapy this afternoon, you must relax."

"Fuck you." Murphy spat. The orderly twisted his arm a bit further and he winced and looked at Connor. Connor looked away.

Connor stood to greet the doctor. "I'm sorry, you were right. I shouldn't have come."

The doctor smiled. "We are doing everything we can."

Connor nodded. "Thankyou."

"Connor." Murphy called out to him and Connor glanced over out of reflex. On Murphy's face he saw the look. The same one Connor saw as the Russians led Murphy out of their apartment while Connor had been cuffed to the fucking toilet.

He watched the orderly drag Murphy from the room and then turned back to the doctor and shook his hand. "You'll let me know when it's a good time to come back and see him?"

The Doctor smiled. "Of course."

"Thank you. And thanks for helping my brother." Connor said.

Connor stood outside the hospital for a long while after.

The psalm Murphy had prayed with him. "By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me— a prayer to the God of my life."

Connor thought about the lines after that, the words memorised and as easy to recall as the day they prayed them with Father Landry.

I say to God my Rock, "Why have you forgotten me? Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by the enemy?" My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me, saying to me all day long, "Where is your God?"

Fuck.

*Chapter 5*: With Me

Connor didn't leave the hospital. There was no way Murphy was going to spend another night in that place if he could do something about it. He waited outside the smoking doors where George shared a smoke with him the day before.

"I need your help."

George led him to the storage room in the basement. Old beds, tables, other types of equiptment were scattered everywhere. It made for the perfect place to hide out. He stole two sets of scrubs from the staff room and waited.

The plan was… Connor walks out of the elevator behind his cleaning cart. The sleepy desk nurse is reading a romance novel and doesn't even look up as he explains he was called to clean a mess on the floor of one of the rooms. Muprhy's room. She nods and passes Connor the key for the room and goes back to reading her romance novel. Connor gets into Muprhy's room, Muprhy changes into the extra set of scrubs Connor stole for him, and they walk out together. The desk nurse doesn't even notice there are two of them because Murphy is just another janitor.

Connor hated waiting. The thought that Murphy was just a few floors above him going through who knows what while Connor was doing nothing was hard to take. The point to waiting for later in the night was so that most of the staff would be gone home or too tired to care, but if they didn't notice the janitorial staff, why bother waiting at all? Because it was more likely someone would notice one janitor suddenly becoming two.

Connor paced the storage room. He didn't have to wait. He could do at least do something now.

Wearing housekeeping scrubs was basically a free pass anywhere in the hospital. Connor grabbed a clipboard. If anyone asked he could tell them he was checking inventory. Easy as pie. At least this way he could let Murphy know he was going to get him out. He hated that he lied to his brother earlier about not recognizing the psalm. Connor took the elevator up to the sixth floor.

Connor kept his head down, looking at the clipboard and hoping no one would recognize him as Murphy's brother. He walked past the desk and along the hall, quickly glancing into the rooms along the way. Most of them were occupied. He looked into Murphy's room. Empty. He continued down the hall to a recreational room for the patients. There were a few people sitting and watching an old siccom on the TV, but no Murphy.

Connor kept looking. No one paid any attention to him at all. He peeked in on a group therapy session, and then a couple of empty examination rooms. And then he saw Murphy. Connor slipped into the room and closed the door quietly. There was no one else inside. Murphy was asleep. Connor touched his shoulder and shook him gently. "Hey, wake up. I need to talk to you." Connor whispered. Murphy shifted in his sleep but didn't wake up.

Connor looked more closely at his brother's face. The bruises from the attack were fading, but there were also a fresh welts on his temples. Connor shook him a little harder, and he noticed something. He pushed up the blanket slightly and saw the leather straps buckled around Murphy's wrist, restraining him to the bed. On the counter there was a cloth spread out with long metal needles, little wires with red and black clips, and what looked like a tuning box. He looked back at his brother and felt his stomach churn.

"Murphy." Connor said again, and there was still no response. He heard something out in the hall and looked around quickly for a place to hide. There weren't a lot of options available. A cupboard? He opened it, it was full. He quickly slid under the bed as the door opened.

He saw two sets of white runners and thin ankles. The nurses stood at the side of the bed. "Two hours."

The other one flipped through a few papers and wrote something down. "His recovery times were already deteriorating with the longer electrotherapy sessions. What do you think this kind of procedure will do to him?"

"That isn't our business." The other one said brusquely. They checked his temperature and blood pressure. "Chart his responses."

"Murphy MacManus." She said loudly. Connor heard Murphy shift above him. She repeated herself.

"Connor?" Murphy groaned.

"Do you recognize my voice, Murphy?" The nurse asked.

Connor heard some more mumbling. "I don't know."

"My name is Candace. Do you feel my hand? Can you squeeze my hand? A little harder this time. Squeeze as hard as you can." She instructed. "Do you know where you are?"

"Where?" Murphy echoed.

"You are in the hospital. Can you name the hosptial?" She asked but he didn't answer. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Why?" Murphy mumbled.

"You just had a procedure. Do you remember?"

"No."

"It's normal to be a little confused. Can you count to five for me?"

"Quinque." He said slowly and then stopped.

"Count to five, please." She repeated, but he stayed quiet. "No improvement." She told her coworker. "Murphy, can you tell me how you are feeling?" She waited a moment. "I think he fell back to sleep. We'll give him another hour and try again."

They walked out together and Connor waited a moment before crawling out of his hiding spot. He was going to have to adjust his plan if Murphy wasn't able to walk out on his own. One thing Connor knew for sure was that he was never going to leave his brother in anyone else's care ever again. Murphy turned his head a bit when Connor touched his hand.

"Conn?"

"Yeah it's me. Just hang in there okay?"

Murphy took his hand and held on. "Don't leave."

"I'll be back. I promise." Connor answered.

Murphy let him go.

"You're going to be okay." Connor assured him. But it looked like Murphy was unconscious again. Connor picked up his clip board from under the bed and slipped out of the room. He went back to the storage room and sat down. And he waited. As much as he hated leaving Murphy up there for one second longer, he knew to do this right he needed to wait. And he needed a new plan. It didn't look like Murphy was going to walk out on his own tonight.

1am.

The nurse at the desk looked half asleep and old enough to have retired a few years ago. She didn't even look up at Connor as she buzzed him in through the security door. Instead of a cleaning cart he went with a laundry cart instead. If Murphy couldn't walk out, at least he could hide in the laundry. It worked on tv shows all the time.

"A little early aren't you?"

"New schedule." Connor answered. "They figure it will be less intrusive to the patients this way."

"Better not wake anyone up."

"I'll be quiet." Connor promised. He didn't intend to wake anyone other than his brother.

The cart was already full of clean laundry he'd picked up from downstairs. He walked down the hall. Murphy's room was 612. Connor opened the door, and twisted the lock on the outside so that it wouldn't lock him in. Murphy was in bed.

"I told you I'd be coming back." Connor whispered. "Wake up, Murph, We're getting out of here."

Connor pulled off the covers and worked at the straps around his wrists, and found straps around Murphy's ankles as well. He could feel Murphy start to stir. "Can you listen to me, Murph? Can you do something for me?"

He watched Murphy stretch his arms. He looked over at the basket and then at Connor.

"Yeah."

Connor breathed a sigh of relief at hearing his brother's voice. "You're going to hide in there. I need you to keep really still and be really quiet. Understand?"

Murphy nodded and slowly sat up. Connor helped him. And together they managed to get Murphy into the basket. Connor pulled a couple sheets over to cover him. Connor backed out of the room, and emptied the dirty laundry from its container over top of what was already in there. And then he wheeled Murphy out, smiling at the desk nurse along the way.

"Murph?" Connor pulled the dirty laundry out and then pulled out the clean cover. He gripped Murphy's arm and pulled him up. He was halfway up when the cart tipped and Connor barely caught him before it crashed to the floor. At least it made getting out of it eaiser.

Murphy was shivering. Connor gripped his brother under the arms, and pulled him up.

There was no coordination in his brother, and Connor worked as quickly as he could manage, taking off the patient gown and getting Murphy dressed in staff scrubs.

"Do you think you can walk?" He held onto Murphy as he took a tentative step, but his knees buckled and he almost fell again. Connor took most his weight.

"We'll go slow." Connor promised.

Murphy nodded.

"Okay, here goes." Connor led Murphy down the hall, it was slow going. He kept a hand on Murphy's shoulder, he could feel his brother struggling to stay up.

"Stay with me okay? Just a little farther. I've got a car for us. " Connor urged him. "You with me Murph?" Murphy nodded, but fell again a moment later. Connor crouched beside him. "We can make it, you can rest in the car." He pulled Murphy up again.

The car was at the back of the lot. Connor helped settle Murphy in. Murphy stayed quiet beside him while Connor drove to their safe house. Another crappy apartment in another crappy neighbourhood. They didn't say anything along the way, but Connor was acutely aware of his brother the entire time. The shivering was constant, and Connor didn't know what to do.

He also hadn't considered the stairs. Their safe house was three stories up. Connor had allowed himself to focus only on one thing at a time. Find Murphy, get to a safe place. Now the freaking stairs. He pushed Murphy on as much as he could. "We'll take three steps and rest. You think you can do that? Just three steps at a time."

They started. It was a long process. The rest stops got longer near the end, and finally at the top Murphy fell and though Connor could see him struggling to push himself back up, the strength just wasn't there. "I've got ye." Connor whispered and pulled him up and supported as much of Murphy's weight as possible. They made it.

He helped Murphy lay down on the bed, and then sat beside him.

"You can sleep, it's safe here." Connor whispered.

Murphy took Connor's hand and held on tight. Whatever else he needed to do would wait for morning. Connor lied down and fell asleep beside him.

...

When Connor woke up, he was alone in bed. Connor sat up and immediately searched for Murphy, who to Connor's utter relief he found sitting cross legged on the fire escape smoking.

Connor crawled out the window to join him. "Shit Murph, you scared the hell out of me."

Murphy stared down at the street.

"How are you feeling?" Connor asked. He was surprised Murphy was up and doing anything at all.

Murphy said nothing while he smoked the rest of the cigarette down the filter and flicked it down to the street below, and then continued to ignore him as he climbed back inside and sat on the bed. He stayed like that for about five minutes while Connor kept himself busy doing other things. He didn't want to rush his brother into talking; he knew Murphy would tell him in his own time. And sure enough he did.

"I didn't think you were coming back."

Connor felt sick just hearing it. "I'm sorry."

Murphy didn't respond.

They hadn't done much for making the apartment comfortable when setting it up. Nothing more than collecting a decent first aid supply, non perishable food, some extra clothes, and something to sleep on. It was a double mattress rather than their usual two single beds, but it had been in the place when they found it and they hadn't cared enough to go through the trouble of changing it.

"Does the shower work?" Murphy asked.

"Yeah."

Murphy didn't move for a moment. "Can you give me a hand?"

He helped Murphy take his shirt off. The bruises and scrapes from before were starting to heal.

There weren't any new injuries. He thought about the psalm and he thought about what they'd been doing to Murphy the night before. There were a lot of ways a person can be hurt without leaving evidence of it.

"I understood your message. As soon as you said it, I made plans to get you out of there." Connor said.

"I should have known." Murphy assured him. And he went into the bathroom to take a shower.

All Connor knew was that he should have never left Murphy in that place to begin with.

Murphy took his time in the shower, and he came out wearing an old towel. He stretched out on the mattress and Connor laid down beside him. "We're going to be fine." Connor promised. Murphy closed his eyes and fell asleep.

It didn't last long. Connor noticed the change about five minutes after Murphy closed his eyes. His fingers started twitching, and then his eyes scrunched up in pain. Connor sat beside his brother and put a hand on his shoulder. He knew it could end up with him getting a fist in the face if Murphy reacted badly, but rather than make things worse, Murphy quieted. Connor stayed beside his brother reading a book for about an hour before the nightmares starting again, and this time just touching Murphy's shoulder didn't put a stop to it.

Then Murphy woke up. He took a gasping breath and opened his eyes.

"You okay?" Connor asked.

"Yeah." Murphy answered. Connor wondered if his brother was aware he was holding onto his arm, and decided not to say anything.

"I couldn't wake you up." Connor whispered.

Murphy nodded. "I can't..." He stopped and collected his thoughts for a moment. "It's the same fucking nightmare every time."

"What's it about?"

"It feels like there's something inside me trying to rip its way out."

"You mentioned that before. Still the same?"

Murphy stayed awake after that. Connor sat with him until he eventually got up and opened a tin of corn. Sooner or later a trip to the grocery store would be necessary, but he wasn't going to leave Muprhy alone yet. Not right after having abandoned his brother to the wolves.

Connor brought him the bowl of cold corn and a fork and watched Murphy take it and start eating without question. Not even the usual, what the fuck is this shit, was uttered.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired of being asked how I'm feeling." Murphy snorted, but kept his focus on the food. Anger simmered just below the surface. Connor didn't blame him; he was pissed off at himself too. He wanted Murphy to rip into him, he deserved no less.

Connor waited. Murphy needed a good bout of temper, but the moment passed, the anger was pushed down, and Murphy finished off the bowl and placed it carefully on the floor. "Thanks."

Connor waited, but Murphy just sat.

"Murph?"

His brother glanced up briefly. "I'm okay, Conn." He answered softly.

"I'm sorry." Connor said.

Muprhy nodded. "You didn't know."

"I shouldn't have left ye there."

Muprhy nodded again, and buried his head in his arms.

"Never again." Connor promised. "No one is ever doing that shit to you again."

*Chapter 6*: Handle it

 

Being outside felt good. Murphy adopted the fire escape as his place. He sat outside and smoked and looked down at the people walking on the sidewalk below. He watched them closely, looking for things out of place. There wasn't a lot to be seen, and that was a relief.

Connor watched him from inside, not that Murphy blamed him. He'd rather be inside and away from his own self as well. It wasn't fair, putting this kind of burden on his brother. He knew Connor would take care of him no matter what, and Murphy would do the same for his brother if roles were reversed. He just didn't want Connor to have to. He hated sitting around and being bored. He hated waiting for his stupid body to heal from an attack in an alley that he couldn't even remember. He hated sitting around thinking about how fucked in the head he was because of it. He hated being on the receiving end of Connor trying to be all understanding and sensitive to his needs. And he hated being ungrateful. Fuck. What Murphy wanted, what he needed, was a good loud argument.

He wanted to yell at Connor to knock it the fuck off every time Connor apologised. Didn't his brother realise that if not for him, Murphy would still be in that place? He wanted to tell Connor about the shit that went on there, he wanted to ask Connor what he thought about it but he couldn't because he knew the second he brought it up that look of guilt would wash over Connor's face yet again. Murphy didn't want Connor to blame himself for any of it, and so he said nothing. Every time he wanted to yell or get angry or break something, Murphy reminded himself that he was already enough of a burden on his brother and swallowed his temper down.

But if he had to eat another fucking can of corn or peas, he was going to lose it completely.

So when Connor finally climbed out the window and joined him on the fire escape to tell him they needed groceries, it felt like Christmas. "The store isn't far from here." Connor continued. "Won't take long."

"I'll come, I need to move." Murphy answered.

"How's your head?"

There were so many things that could mean and Murphy chewed his lip for a second just mulling over them. "In what respect."

Connor shrugged.

Murphy wasn't sure how he wanted to answer that. "I can handle it."

"How bad is it?"

"I know the difference between what's real and what's not."

Connor made himself comfortable sitting, and leaned back against the rail, apparently settling in for what he expected to be a long conversation. "Do you trust me, Muprh? No matter what happens we'll deal with it ourselves. No more hospitals or any of that, I promise you."

More than anything, that was what Murphy wanted. The problem was, he was too fucking scared. Scared about what was going on in his head, scared what it meant for his future and for Connor's.

Doctor Reuben told him the only solution in his case was long term institutionalization and that to make the decision on his own would be the kindest thing he could do for his family so that they wouldn't have to suffer the burden of taking care of him as it got worse.

Doctor Reuben told him about a private facility that would take him as an inpatient at no cost if he agreed to sign the papers to participate in research studies and cutting edge experimental therapies. It was his only hope of ever being normal again, the doctor assured him.

He knew what had been done to him in the hospital wasn't normal or moral. He knew that whatever was happening to his mind had to do with getting attacked. The rest of him was healing though, so why not his head? If anything, it was getting worse.

In the hospital the doctor told him there was no cure for what was happening and that he had to come to terms with the fact that he couldn't trust his own thoughts anymore. Fine. If he couldn't trust his own thoughts then he would trust Connor.

"We don't know how bad it'll get or what's going to happen." Murphy warned him, and he knew by the look on Connor's face that his brother was not willing to accept it.

"You've been fine since leaving that hospital. Do you think it's gone? Maybe it was just something from the concussion you had?"

Murphy decided then and there to stop pretending. He wasn't going to be able to hide it forever. One way or another, Murphy knew his brother would figure it out, so why wait for it to happen? It would be easier on both of them to come clean and be honest. If Connor was going to help him, he needed to know the truth.

"There's still things I see that I know shouldn't be there." Murphy hated the look of disappointment on his brother's face. It was the look Murphy had seen back in the hospital when Connor first realized there was something wrong with his brother that he couldn't fix.

"How do you know?"

"I remember what things looked like before this started, I fucking know what isn't right." Murphy sighed. "I can see it on you. The light around you is brighter than it should be."

Connor thought about it. "What are you saying, Murph? You're saying I glow?"

Murphy chewed his lip for a second. "That's not what I said."

Connor laughed. "Glow like what? Like one of those fairy stories with sparkles and rainbows?"

Murphy laughed with him. "Don't you wish? But no. Just light, like you've got something shining from within you. I'll tell you, it's a hell of a lot better than the shadows and nightmare bullshit."

"Do you ever see me like that? With the shadows?"

"No. Never. Someone with the darkness around them, it stays on them. Same with the light. Same people same thing. Doctor Reuben always had shadows around him, and sometimes his face looked like one of those Halloween masks, all horrible and such. I know it wasn't real, but I kept seeing blood too. Blood dripping off his hands and pooling around him on the floor. Leaving stains on everything he touched."

"Sounds awful." Connor said softly.

Murphy nodded. "There wasn't a lot of nice to go around in there."

"Murphy…"

Murphy stopped him. "I should have told you how bad it was."

"You shouldn't have needed to."

"Detective Sobel showed me some pictures, asking me if I recognised anything."

"What pictures?"

"Crime scene photos. Looks like a movie set, some kind of torture scene with chains out of a horror movie. I asked him if it was a picture of his bedroom."

Connor sat down on the mattress. "How bad is it, Murph?"

Murphy stretched briefly, then shrugged. "My head still feels like someone took a hammer to it. Otherwise not so bad." He stared at Connor for a moment, and then sat down beside his brother. "What are you asking me?"

"What about your wrists? You were cuffed." Connor touched Murphy's arm and compared scars. They were the same. Connor remembered the desperation he'd felt when the Russians had led Murphy out of the apartment at gun point. "You dislocated your thumb trying to get out."

"I don't know what the bastards had planned, but I got out before they could get to it."

Connor hung his head for a moment. "Good." He looked back up and nodded briefly. "We're going to find the bastards and make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."

"Damn right." Murphy agreed.

"And you still remember nothing of it?"

"Doctor Reuben said the detective asked him to work with me and see if he could help me remember."

"And what happened?"

"He said Detective Sobel had proof that it was you, and that I just couldn't process the fact that my own brother would do that. So, I told him to go fuck himself." He got up and climbed through the window back into the apartment.

Connor followed him. "They think I did it?"

Murphy shook his head. "Doctor Reuben thinks I have repressed memories. It's all just paperwork. People get murdered and they never find the killers; no one cares about someone getting beat up on the way home from the pub."

Murphy put on his jacket and pulled the rosary over his head then passed Connor the matching one.

"You're sure you're ready to go out?" Connor asked. "And you'll tell me if you see anything weird?"

Murphy sighed. "I'm not going to freak out and hurt someone, Conn."

"I never said you would. I'm just worried about you is all."

They went. For having said earlier that he felt better, for Murphy two blocks turned out to be a tiring distance. Not that he said anything. He felt slightly off balance, but he pushed the cart and followed Connor around the store, grabbing a few extras and tossing them in along the way. Connor spent the majority of the time watching his brother, and his brother pretended not to see him doing it.

"Seeing anything?"

Murphy sent Connor a dirty look. "Yeah I am seeing plenty. Fucking food on the shelves and everything you see."

Connor shrugged and looked at his list. "We forgot the paper plates a couple aisles back." He muttered. Murphy didn't hear him. There was a woman. She had walked up behind them, and Murphy hadn't even seen her. He felt her. A cold fist reaching into his head, making him nauseous. Then he turned and he knew what he was going to see. The shadow was wrapped around her like a giant python. He hadn't even known someone was going to be there and he'd felt it, how does that happen?

He felt something against his arm and looked around. Connor was staring at him, his eyes narrowed and just about looking right into him. "Do you see it?" Murphy asked. He should have known better, but he'd been wrapped up in the moment.

Connor looked at the woman and then back again. "You okay?"

Words weren't needed to tell Murphy his brother was only seeing a young woman wearing a pink rain jacket with her hair up in a tight pony tail. Nothing more.

Connor looked over at the woman one more time before she wandered off down another aisle. "Should we leave?"

"No." He rubbed at his forehead. "It's just a headache."

"We're done anyway." Connor lied. Murphy didn't call him on it.

Connor walked beside the cart with one hand on the basket, basically leading them to the check out. "You going to make it?"

"I'm sick of this shit, Conn." He said quietly.

"I know."

Murphy sighed and leaned on the cart while they waited in line to pay. Just his luck. The woman he'd seen earlier in the pink rain jacket stepped into line behind them.

The shadow wasn't real and as much as Murphy kept repeating that to himself he couldn't stop seeing it sliding and shaping itself around her. The pressure in his head felt amplified by her presence. Everything about her, the clumps of mascara stuck to her eyelashes, to the pungent smell of her cheap perfume, it all coalesced into the thumping grinding pain behind his temples. He didn't know her. So it wasn't like his mind was picking and choosing who to see this way. Of all the other people in the store, why was he only having issues with her? Why did his brother glow, and this woman seem to suck all the light out of the air around her?

And here he was trapped in line trying to figure out why his brain wasn't working right. Great. The more he looked at her the worse he felt. He could hear his heart beating. He felt the saliva collecting in his mouth...

"I need a smoke." He said brusquely. He saw Connor tense and that was enough to know he'd been heard. He turned around and brushed past her on his way out of the line...

Loud music. White lines of powder on the table. A baby crying. She leans back and laughs.

And the next thing he knew he was on the floor. The magazine rack was pushed back from where he fell against it. His brother was kneeling over him with those familiar worry lines etched in his forehead.

"Can you at least get him out of the line so the rest of us can carry on with our day." The pink rain coat lady fumed.

Murphy lay on the floor for a moment, looking up at his brother and the pink raincoat lady. And all at once it suddenly felt like it made sense. Before his brother could stop him, Murphy twisted around, grabbed the woman's ankle.

Connor grabbed his arm to pull him away and Murphy held on tighter; no one was prying him off of her. The woman didn't scream, but she sure as hell wasn't pleased with what was going on. Whatever happened next, Murphy wasn't aware of any of it. He was somewhere else, somewhere dark, somewhere secret, somewhere evil. A sharp cry ending in silence, blood, garbage bags. It's done.

And then he felt the explosion of pain hit his face and he was back on the dirty floor of a grocery store, and the woman in the pink raincoat was pulling back her leg to kick him again with her inappropriate for shopping high heels. Murphy let go and covered his face to protect himself from another hit, but Connor was able to push her back before that happened.

"Hey, knock it off, he let you go."

She stumbled backwards. "I'm calling the police. The fucker assaulted me." She yelled.

"He had a seizure." Connor shouted back. "He didn't know what..."

His face stung where she kicked him, but Murphy was slowly starting to get back some awareness of his surroundings again. Where the hell did the crowd come from? He wondered how much time had passed. He slowly sat up and looked right at the woman. "You threw your baby in the trash?" He said it quietly, but the words were enough to cause a sudden silence.

Everyone looked at him, and then at her.

"Shut the fuck up, how can you know that?" She yelled. She glared and stepped forward to kick him again, but Connor was already on it, his arm blocking the strike and taking the brunt of the hit.

"You threw her out like garbage." Murphy repeated. She moved forward again, and Connor stood up, pushing her away from his brother.

She stumbled backwards. "Who the fuck are you?" She glanced at her cart and the people crowded around her, the store manager standing among them.

The store manager placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Ma'am?"

"Leave me the fuck alone." The woman yelled and shoved the manager. A cart was in the way of her exit and she pushed it into the crowd, hitting several bystanders before running out of the store.

The store manager looked at Connor, then down at Murphy. "Is your friend alright?"

"He had a seizure." Connor said quickly. "Sorry."

Murphy started collecting some of the things that had fallen on the ground but the store manager knelt beside him and put a hand on his arm. "I've got this. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks." He accepted Connor's hand pulling him up. He vaguely heard Connor apologising to the manager, but didn't pay attention. He just wanted to get out and get everyone's eyes off him.

Everything was too bright, too loud, too close. A hand touched his arm and he flinched away automatically, but it caught his attention. An older woman, in her late fifties or sixties was beside him. Murphy found himself drawn towards her. She was like Connor. The light around her didn't hurt his eyes like the fluorescents humming up on the ceiling did. The light was soft and Murphy felt warmed being in her presence. "Come with me and sit for a bit." She said to him.

Murphy looked briefly at Connor. "I'll go sit."

Connor nodded. "I'll be there right away."

The woman wrapped her fingers around Murphy's hand. "Come," She said, and Murphy followed her.

She led him to the front of the store and sat down on the bench there. "My son had epilepsy." She explained. "He hated whenever something happened out in public. He always assumed all the people watching were judging him. He could never accept that they were just curious and didn't mean any harm. He was always so embarrassed." She rambled on and Murphy noted that she spoke about her son in past tense.

He thought about what his brother said earlier about no more hospitals, and he wondered how much Connor might be regretting that statement now.

He had no idea what just happened. What the hell had he been thinking? What just happened was a deal breaker, he understood that. In the moment everything had felt so real. He had believed he could see the source of the darkness leaking out of her just by touching her ankle. Fuck, the woman hadn't even denied anything he said. But then, what did he expect her to say?

Now, a whole five fucking minutes later, he understood just how fucking mental it was. What kind of sick fuck was he to accuse someone in the middle of the supermarket of killing their baby? Of course she didn't deny it, she was probably too freaked out by the lunatic grabbing her ankle.

He thought he'd be able to tell the difference. Doctor Reuben was right; he shouldn't be out in the public like this if he couldn't control himself. He should have stayed in the apartment. He would stay in the apartment from now on. If Connor was still going to have him around after this. Fuck.

The woman beside him smiled kindly and patted his knee. Then, thankfully, Connor was in front of him and it was time to go.

Connor walked slow, allowing Murphy to set the pace as he could. "How's your face?"

"Fine."

"You okay?"

"I told you I'm fine, didn't I." Murphy grumbled. Connor didn't deserve this. He knew Connor had every reason to send him right back to the hospital. Fuck, thinking about it now, maybe he really was too far gone to function outside of a facility.

He knew there was something wrong with him. If Connor insisted, he would go.

*Chapter 7*: Going on like this

They didn't talk about what happened in the grocery store. Connor thought about it though.

He knew his brother better than he knew himself, and he had never known Murphy to retreat into himself like this. For all their lives, Murphy had always been the impulsive one, the one who couldn't sit still, the one who would scream and yell and curse when pushed too far. It felt wrong to see Murphy so quiet.

Three days passed.

Connor did what he could. He didn't want to leave his brother alone for any period of time, but that didn't mean he did nothing. While Murphy was out on the fire escape smoking and doing whatever he did out ther'; Connor took the opportunity to make some phone calls.

Murphy wasn't talking much. Neither of them were. They watched television shows on a small TV Connor found beside the dumpster outside, and took turns reading old thriller or western novels. They watched each other; trying to gauge what the other was thinking without actually coming out and asking it. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and neither of them knew exactly how to get past it.

They were watching Judge Judy. Brothers from New York arguing about a business they used to co-own and droning on about wrongs they've done to each other and why it was all the other ones fault. Connor couldn't stand it anymore. Connor couldn't stand watching these kinds of stories about brothers who hated each other. He got up and turned off the television and looked at Murphy. Murphy was still staring at the blank screen, no reaction at all to it having been turned off. It was all just too much and Connor felt like he either had to do something now or jump off the fire escape.

"We can't go on like this."

"I know." Murphy answered, he didn't seem surprised.

"So what are we going to do?"

"I'm going to have a cigarette." Murphy said. He leaned over and grabbed the pack off the old wooden box they were using as a coffee table and dug his lighter out of his pocket.

Connor glared. "That's it then? You're going to just sit here and smoke and feel sorry for yourself?"

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself." Murphy answered.

"Then what would you call this?"

"Enjoying a smoke while I can." Murphy remained eerily calm. "What should I do Conn? I don't want to go back to that hospital."

"I never said anything about hospitals, Muprh. That isn't going to happen."

"I've seen you on the phone. Seen you pretend you haven't been talking to someone. Writing stuff in that fucking notebook you have stashed in the kitchen cupboard. You must have a pretty good list of options going by now."

"Did you look at it?" Connor asked.

"No. I'm just letting you know I know." Murphy started off into the distance. "Whatever you decide, I'll go along with it. Just don't fucking lie to me. "

Connor sighed. "What if what you're seeing what is real?"

"I'm delusional, not an idiot. I got confused when I was seeing that stuff if the grocery store. It felt real, but I know the difference. It's not fucking real, Connor."

"But what if it is?" Connor asked.

"What the hell are you aiming at? It isn't fucking funny."

"I'm not joking. I've been talking to Detective Duffy."

"About what?"

"I told him what happened in the grocery store."

"What would you fucking do that for?"

"Shut up and listen. I talked to him about the woman there. She dropped her wallet when I pushed her and I gave him a call the next day. They've had some time to look into it."

"You pushed her?"

"She was trying to kick you in the face. You want to know what I've been writing in that notebook? I asked him to look her up and he contacted Agent Smecker. You were right, she had a daughter, Murph. Those things you said to her, it's not just in your head. She told the investigator that her mother is taking care of her daughter in California but her mother died twenty years ago. There's no trace of the girl anywhere." Connor said quickly. "How could you know about that?"

There was no response.

"Murph?"

Murphy stubbed out the cigarette and got up and paced. "They're sure? That woman's little girl is really missing?"

"Yeah."

"Shit like this doesn't happen. What about the hallucinations? The shadows coming out of people, the blood and other shit that I see. I can't believe you're taking any of this shit seriously."

"Because I believe in you, that's why. Maybe you should try it sometime. Shit like this does happen Murph. Think about it, how is this different than God giving us our mission in a dream?"

"It's fucking insane, Connor. There's something wrong in my head, I can even feel it. I don't want the shit I see to be real." Murphy sat down on the mattress and rested his elbows on his knees.

Connor sat beside his brother and placed his hand on his back. He lied down and pulled Murphy down beside him so that they were side by side laying on their backs.

"I'm going to help you get through this." Connor said.

"You sound like a fucking hallmark card."

"Fuck you." Connor laughed. "I'm trying to be supportive."

Murphy laughed briefly and closed his eyes.

They stayed like that for a while. And then Murphy asked him, "You really think it's real?"

"Yeah, I do."

"And the shadows coming out of people, you think it's because there's something evil in them?"

"Yeah."

"What about us?" Murphy asked. "We kill people Conn. There's blood on our hands."

"Not innocent blood." Connor reminded him. "Destroy all that which is evil." Connor started.

"So that which is good may flourish." Murphy finished.

They looked at each other. "And now you can see who is evil." Connor said quietly.

...

That night Murphy woke up while Connor was still asleep.

Murphy looked at his brother sleeping beside him and thought about what he'd said earlier about the hallucinations being real. He thought about that little girl he watched get murdered by her own mother. He didn't want it to be true.

A fresh pack of cigarettes sat on the table beside the window. He tore it open and climbed out onto the fire escape. He sat down on the cold metal framework and stared out at the buildings all around, he stared at the lights flickering in the odd windows where other people were awake and doing normal activities like watching TV, reading books, washing dishes, and fucking. He wondered what he would see if he looked at them up close; more horrible things?

It was too much to think about, especially considering he didn't even trust that he was thinking straight. He needed to rely on Connor, but Connor was telling him this shit was real. It was all just so fucking unbelievable but was it more unbelievable than God giving them a mission to kill evil people? Neither of them had needed any convincing to do God's will. But these visions he was seeing didn't feel like God's will. Whose will was that?

An ambulance siren wailed a few streets away, growing loud as it came closer and then fading as it sped away. His thoughts turned towards the hospital.

What about the things he'd seen there? Why did he see visions of Doctor Reuben covered in blood… what the fuck did that mean?

Connor told him it was real.

His head was pounding. He felt tired, both physically and mentally. He felt it again, that scraping and clawing that seemed to come from inside. What was wrong with him?

He reached out and felt the edge of the railing.

But whatever was in his head was now screaming from inside. Clawing, scratching, reaching, it was going to find a way out even if it meant tearing Murphy apart while it did so.

"Connor." Murphy whispered his brother's name like a prayer. Help me, Connor.

He crawled back inside.

But he wasn't inside the apartment. He was seeing some place else. A place that was dark and lit with candles. He could see the outline of someone walking in a circle, chanting words he couldn't understand.

And then it was gone, the room around him came back into focus and Connor was beside him. "You okay?"

"I need to go back." Murphy whispered.

"Back where?"

"Where I got attacked. I think I'm starting to remember."

*Chapter 8*: Remember

Connor suggested taking a taxi. The easiest way would be the subway, but he wasn't about to force Murphy to deal with the amount of people they'd run into along the way there.

"A cab? Are you fucking kidding me?" Murphy protested.

"What about..."

"No. I've had enough of this fucking shit and I'm tired of hiding. If I'm going to keep having hallucinations I'm going to have to learn how to deal with them, right?"

"They aren't hallucinations, Murph."

"What's the fucking difference?"

"Don't talk like that. Maybe we can use it."

"No. Something fucking horrible was done to me to make me see the things I do and nothing good is going to come of it. We aren't using it."

"We'll find the fucker who did this to you, and undo it."

"Fine. But we're taking the subway. I can do this, Connor."

The bruises were fading, Murphy's strength was coming back. It was good enough. They walked together. Murphy generally kept his head down, and made an effort not to walk too close to anyone, but the streets were crowded and the odds were against him. They walked around a group of people waiting at a bus stop outside the post office and that was when it happened. An old man sitting on the steps of the building got up suddenly and bumped into Murphy as they walked past. Connor grabbed his brother's arm as his step faltered.

He pulled Murphy forward until they cleared the crowd. Murphy leaned against the brick wall of an apartment block for a moment. "We can go back." Connor offered.

"No. I'm fine. It was just… I wasn't ready."

"What did you see?"

"He killed his wife. Put a pillow over her head and held it there until she stopped moving." Murphy whispered and grabbed Connor's arm when he turned to look back. He stood up and pulled Connor along with him.

It was only a couple more blocks to the subway. There weren't a lot of people on the platform. Murphy sat on a bench and Connor sat beside him.

"Our train's here."

Murphy was about to stand up but when he caught sight of one of the people getting on the same train, and stayed sitting instead. "We'll catch the next one."

Connor shrugged. There wasn't any rush. He sat down beside his brother. "What was it?"

"Felt like a fucking nail got driven into my head."

"What did you see?"

"Nothing. I have to touch someone for that. Jut the headache that comes with seeing those shadow things is bad enough."

"Want to try again another day?"

"I need to get control of this. How long until the next train?"

"About ten minutes."

"That'll do."

Connor wanted to turn around and drag his brother back to the apartment, but it was Murphy's decision. He wasn't going to hold his brother back if he wanted to do this. They got on the train and there was only standing room. Connor stood close just in case. "You're gonna be fine." He said encouragingly.

Murphy didn't respond. Connor noticed everything. He noticed when people edged past and how Murphy moved to avoid unnecessary contact, and how when they did accidently brush up against him, Murphy flinched slightly at the contact. Connor put a hand on his brother's shoulder, and Murphy leaned into it.

"This is our stop." Connor said, and Murphy followed.

The subway came up on the street a few blocks from their apartment. It was a route they knew well. They walked past the pub and Murphy stopped a block down. "It was here." He looked around and turned down the alley. "There was only one guy. He asked for a light for his cigarette."

"You remember?"

Murphy frowned. "Some of it. I was reaching for my lighter when he tazed me."

He pushed on an old rusted door on the side of a brick building and it swung inwards. He stepped inside. There was a staircase to the left, leading down to the basement and into another room. The room was dark. It had once been a laundry room but now everything was torn out of it. The light switch did nothing and so Connor lit a match and Murphy looked around.

"This is it."

"How do you know?"

Murphy glanced at him, but his attention was focused elsewhere. The match burnt out and Connor lit another. Murphy picked up a crowbar laying in the far corner of the room and picked it up. He tested the weight and then swung it through the air like a baseball bat hard enough that it made a whistling noise and made the match flame flicker.

"He got pissed off cause I wouldn't shut up." He tossed the bar back into the corner where it clattered against the concrete.

"I was tied down." There was a hole in the cement, and Murphy lightly ran his boot over it. "There was a hook in the floor for a chain." There was a large dark stain all around him.

The match burnt out again, replaced a moment later with another small burst of flame.

Murphy paced the small space and rubbed at the scabs still healing around his wrists and then pulled up his sleeve revealing the bandages wrapped around his forearm. "Why is there so much I can't fucking remember?"

Connor stared at the stain on the floor. Blood. His brother's blood. "You remember more than before."

"Not enough." Murphy knelt down beside the stain, running his fingers lightly over the dried surface. He closed his eyes a second as a spike of pain flashed through his head. It felt the same as when he touched the woman wearing the pink raincoat in the supermarket. The same feeling he got when Doctor Reuben had touched him in the hospital. Except this time he wasn't touching anyone.

He was touching blood. He knew it was just a stain on the floor, but he could feel it. It was wet and warm and thick.

And he could see it too.

He saw himself. A chain ran from the hook in the floor and around his wrists. His ankles were restrained in the same way to a hook on the other side. He was stretched out and held down, but that didn't stop him from fighting, and it didn't stop him from yelling.

"Mother-fucker, I'm going to shove your face up your arse and make you eat your own shit."

Candlelight flickered, casting long shadows in the dim light.

The crowbar swung down at Murphy's legs and chest. Murphy continued to shout curses until he lost his breath.

The man crouched down and pressed one knee against Murphy's shoulder; pinning him to the floor. Before Murphy could start cursing at him again the knife was pressed into his cheek. "If you keep yelling, I will cut out your tongue." And Murphy had no reason not to believe him.

The knife touched his arm, cutting into the flesh above his wrist.

He could feel the wet stickiness of the blood that spilled on the floor around him. He couldn't see the man's face clearly, he wasn't sure if that was a side effect of the dim candle light in the room or a side effect of still not being able to remember.

The man grabbed a bowl and held it under Murphy's arm, letting the blood drip into it. He held it still and waited for it to collect and then he sat up, holding the bowl in two hands. "Blood for blood." He brought the bowl of Murphy's blood to his lips, and he drank. The candles flared. Murphy saw the man's face.

Doctor Reuben.

"In ancient times, a sacrifice would be done to transfer the sins from one person to another, or from a person to an animal, and the blood of that sacrifice was pleasing to God. You are my sacrifice. All my guilt, my sins, will be on you. You will pay the price and I will be free." He said softly. The Doctor made a cut on his own upper arm and collected his own blood into the same bowl he just drank from. This time he held the bowl to Murphy's lips. "Drink."

He tried not to. The doctor forced his mouth open and poured the viscous liquid in and then placed his hand over Murphy's mouth to hold it shut.

Murphy struggled, but there wasn't anything he could do. He tried not to allow the mixture down his throat, but Doctor Reuben slammed him down against the cement and he reflexively swallowed. The Doctor released him, and Murphy coughed and gagged, struggling to catch his breath.

And then Doctor Reuben placed his hand over his mouth and nose all over again. Holding him down, cutting off his air.

He couldn't breathe, his lungs burned with the need to find oxygen. It felt like his entire body was under pressure.

Murphy fought to hold on. He wasn't going to die like this. It was ironic, that despite their missn to kill evil men and violence and danger that went along with that, Murphy would die as the victim of a random psycho. At least he knew Connor was safe. Connor would find this bastard and kill him. Murphy took some comfort from that.

The doctor held his hand over Murphy's face long after he stopped moving. When he finally let go, Murphy's head fell limply to the side. Eyes open, and unblinking.

The candles flared again. A darkness was slowly oozed out of Doctor Reuben. It slid out of his eyes and nose and mouth, even from his ears, it swirled and it floated in the air like thick smoke.

It wafted down, covering Murphy's face, and flowed into his body, the same as it had come out of Doctor Reuben's body. Not all of it entered him, it was tethered to Doctor Reuben, seemingly unwilling to let go completely.

A moment ago, Murphy had felt like he was floating, there had been no pain, just the odd sensation of watching his body from above, but all that changed as the darkness slid into him. Murphy felt himself slammed down, forced back into the body laying lifeless on the floor. It felt like he was on fire from the inside, and he screamed from the agony of it.

Doctor Reuben stumbled backwards.

Muprhy knew without a doubt that the shadow was in his body with him.

Doctor Reuben still held the knife, and Murphy knew he had but one chance to save himself. He pulled on his arms, feeling the skin tear against the unrelenting metal of the cuff holding him down. It didn't matter. Nothing fucking mattered but getting free.

He felt something pop in his hand, and his arm pulled loose just as the knife came down. The chain around his other wrist slipped free. He pushed the killer off him and pulled at the chain around his ankles. He needed to get out and he couldn't get his feet free. He felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. He couldn't pass out. His fingers were slick with blood, he could barely grip anything with his thumb dislocated, and the other hand was cold and numb.

He hadn't come this far just to fail now. Doctor Reuben lunged at him and Murphy managed grab the other man's arm in time to knock the knife out of his hand and send it flying across the room. He used the momentum to flip the doctor over and the back of his head hit the concrete knocking him out. Murphy quickly patted his pockets for the keys and found them. He didn't waste any time unlocking his ankles.

He stumbled to his feet and out the door. He needed to get out. He might die anyway, but he wasn't going to let that fucker kill him. Everything was blurry and out of focus as he ran up the stairs and out the door. There were lights. A car. He heard someone yell behind him and he ran into the street, he heard the squeal of tires on pavement. And then darkness.

...

Murphy opened his eyes. He was back in that room again, being held down. He couldn't move and he...

"Murph, hey, calm down."

He stilled. Murphy tried to take a deep breath but he felt crushed. He felt... "Let me up."

The hands that were holding him down helped pull him up and Murphy finally felt like he could breathe. He was with Connor but the last thing he remembered was being back in that room. He remembered touching the blood stain on the floor and being transported back. He was somewhere else now.

"We're in the hall. You passed out and I didn't want you waking up in there." Connor explained. "What the fuck happened?"

"I remember." Murphy answered. He told his brother everything.

"Human sacrifice? Are you fucking kidding me? Can I go back on what I said before and decide that you are insane and none of this is fucking true?"

"Fuck you."

"So, Doctor Reuben was going to use you as a human sacrifice to cleanse him of sin?"

"You're right. It's insane."

"See, this is why we Catholics have it figured out. Has he not heard of confession? A few Hail Mary's and Lords Prayers and he'd have been right as rain."

Murphy leaned his back against the wall. "His sin... whatever it is, his evil, it is still inside me. That's why all this is happening, why I'm seeing those things. I can feel it, I need to get it out."

Connor cleared his throat. "You said that thing brought you back to life? What happens to you when it leaves?"

"God's will."

"It wasn't God's fucking will to kill you in the first place." Connor slammed his fist against the wall.

"I don't want it in me."

"But what if it's what is keeping you alive?"

"Then I'd rather be dead."

They stood up together. Connor didn't respond, and Murphy didn't ask him to.

Outside, Murphy turned towards their apartment, it was only a short walk away. "I can't fucking handle the subway right now. Just give me a few hours and we'll go back."

Connor agreed and together they walked home. Murphy hung his cross on the wall where it belonged and Connor hung his beside his brothers. The flat was cleaner than Murphy remembered. This place, such as it was, was as much of a home as either of them had in North America. It felt good to be back, though he knew they weren't staying. Not yet, not until they got things sorted out with Doctor Reuben. Murphy lit a cigarette and sat down on his bed, his hand was shaking slightly and he tried to hide it from Connor, but he could tell his brother had already seen.

"You alright?"

Murphy nodded, he didn't think he could pull off lying out loud to his brother at the moment. He wasn't fucking okay. "I can't believe all this time it was Doctor Reuben."

"We'll find him and end him." Connor stated. "And we'll get that thing out of you and you'll be fine."

There wasn't much else to say.

"We can't stay here." Connor reminded Murphy.

"I know." But instead of getting up Murphy stubbed his cigarette out on the plate beside his bed and lied down.

"We need to think up a plan." Connor insisted.

"You'll think of something." Murphy encouraged, and he watched Connor pace. He knew his brother would think up something. Until then, he just needed some time to rest.

He closed his eyes, felt himself relaxing, and it started. The clawing, scraping, screeching in his head. Murphy woke up with a jolt. There was no rest to be had.

Murphy sat up. His head ached worse than it had before. "I want to get him tonight. Whatever is happening to me isn't getting better."

"Are you up for it?" Connor asked.

Murphy grinned back. "Fuck yeah."

*Chapter 9*: What's Done is Done

They headed back to the hospital. Connor and Murphy found their way in the same way Connor had before, through the service door where the employee's took their smoke breaks. The doors weren't locked.

They found who they were looking for shortly after. George was mopping floors in the cafeteria. He saw them as they walked in and nodded in greeting, then focused on Murphy. "Good to see you doing better."

Murphy looked about to say something but Connor placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward. "I need an address."

George looked from one brother to the other. "And what are you going to be doing with this information if I give it to you?"

"We're planning to send a thank you card to Murph's doctor."

"For all the fine care he gave me while I was his patient." Murphy added.

George looked down at his mop for a moment, seeming to deliberate, but when he looked up he was smiling. "Meet me at the smoking doors in an hour."

Connor glanced at Murphy briefly and Murphy nodded.

George went back to mopping. "I look forward to watching the news tomorrow."

…

Connor filled Murphy in on the plan along the way. The doctor lived fairly close to the hospital. It was a wealthy new apartment building near the park with an underground parking garage.

"He's an idiot if he falls for it."

Connor raised his eyebrows. "When haven't my plans worked out for us?"

"You mean when have they ever worked as planned?" Murphy laughed. "This is ridiculous."

"It is not." Connor retorted. "Fucking brilliant is what it is."

Murphy sighed and followed Connor around the side of the building. They waited beside the underground garage entrance and snuck in behind the next car to enter. From there it was as simple as catching the elevator to the eighth floor.

Connor knocked on the door. "Doctor Reuben?" He called. He heard a vauge answer from inside and he disguised his accent to sound American while Murphy did his best not to laugh out loud.

"You sound like ye've got marbles in your mouth." Murphy whispered.

Connor glared back at his brother and continued. "This is Bob from the seventh floor. Remember me? I got some of your mail in my box." Connor waited, making sure to stand to the side of the peephole so that his head would be visible but turned away. Nothing suspicious.

The lock on the door clicked, and Dr Reuben opened the door slightly. Connor passed him the letter and smiled, and a second later Murphy kicked the door open with his boot.

The door swung inwards, catching Dr Reuben in the face and pushing him backward. The brothers stepped inside and locked the door.

"See?" Connor said to his brother.

Murphy shrugged. He pulled out his gun and aimed it at Dr Reuben's head. "On your knees." The darkness surrounding the doctor stretched out, seeming to recognize and reach out towards him. The shadow inside him amped up its struggle to get free, and his finger tightened on the trigger in reaction to the onslaught of pain in his head. "I remember everything."

Connor saw what Murphy was about to do and pushed his arm off target just as the gun fired. Thankfully the noise was muffled from the silencer, but Connor had to wrestle the gun out of his brother's hand and push him back. "What the fuck are you doing? This isn't the plan."

"I didn't agree to any fucking plan."

Connor placed himself between Murphy and the doctor and placed Murphy's weapon on the table. "How do we fix my brother?"

The doctor blinked owlishly and crawled backwards until he hit the wall. "Mental illness is a complicated issue. If he returns to the hospital for further treatment I promise he'll receive the best of care."

"Stay the fuck back, Murph." Connor leveled his own gun. "We know everything. We know what you did."

The doctor stopped feigning innocence, he licked his lips nervously and smiled at Murphy. "The police are looking for you. I had you reported as suffering from violent delusions. Even if you tell them what happened, no one will believe you."

"We know how to avoid attention." Connor assured the doctor.

Again the doctor focused on Murphy. "How did you figure it out? You were so sincere about wanting to get better. You really were the kind of patient doctors like myself yearn for; the kind who will participate in any kind of treatment, and do everything they are told to get better. There were times I really did wish there was something I could have done for you."

Murphy stayed quiet, so Connor answered for him. "You fucking did enough don't you think?"

"You were supposed to die. I didn't know what to do when you showed up in my hospital. There was the detective coming around all the time, asking me if your amnesia was real, he gave me the idea to suggest it was your brother. But then you didn't go for it, and then you told me about your hallucinations. Do you remember what you told me about the orderly? The one you attacked?"

"He killed a patient." Murphy answered.

"Do you remember what you said?"

"He would go into her room at night, and rape her. He would hold a pillow over her face so she couldn't scream. And he suffocated her."

Doctor Reuben nodded. "It was the detail that convinced me. I knew what happened because it was my idea to cover it up; can you imagine the scandal that kind of incident would have on our hospital? We could have been shut down. We would definitely have lost some of our funding. That's how I knew you were the real thing. When you told me what you saw when you looked at me, I knew I had to do something."

"I only wanted to help you." Doctor Reuben pleaded. "When you told me about the visions and the dreams you are forced to endure, I understood the extent of my failure. That's why the sacrifice needs to die. I couldn't sit by and let you suffer. I couldn't allow another death of one of my patients, so I did the next best thing. Given enough time I could have legitimately upped your electrotherapy treatments to a level that would have caused extensive brain damage. No more visions, no more dreams, no more pain. I would have provided you with the best of long term care. In essence it would have solved all our problems."

Connor grabbed Murphy's arm to hold him back.

"I'm going to kill you." Murphy stated coldly.

"Go ahead. Kill me, I'm not afraid to die anymore. Don't you see I didn't have a choice? I always thought I'd have more time to make things right with God, but my time ran out. That's why I needed you. I'm dying."

Murphy glared at him. "You think that's an excuse?"

"I have a brain tumor. Inoperable, and growing just above my brain stem. I have a time bomb in my head, and it can go off at any time. I can't even describe what you've done for me; I can rest easy knowing my soul is pure."

Murphy laughed. "Not from this angle. You're forgetting what I can see."

"No. It worked, you're lying. I transferred my sins to you through my blood offering, and then you paid the price. Your death set me free."

"I didn't stay dead, did I? Something happened to me during your fucking ritual, something got trapped in my head, but that's all it is, just something that got left behind. Your sin is with you, and when you die, it will still be with you."

The doctor shook his head. "Then it is with you too, that part that got left behind, so that means we're linked. You can't kill me. If I die, you'll die with me. "

"I don't have a problem with that." Murphy stated.

Connor pushed Murphy back yet again. "How do we undo this?"

"Why would I tell you? If the ritual didn't work, I have to do it again. I have to die with a clean soul. You can help me. If you help me your brother will be free."

"Fuck you." Murphy lunged at Connor, and wrapped his hand over Connor's grip on the gun. He took the shot. The doctor fell back, a bullet hole in the centre of his forehead and a spray of blood covering the wall behind.

Something dark filled the room. Even Connor saw it this time, thick black shadows leeching out of Doctor Reuben's dead body, raising slowly into the air like tentacles, and it was coming out of his brother too.

Connor stared at Murphy; their hands still entwined on the gun. The shadow from Murphy entwined with the shadow from Doctor Reuben and curled into each other until becoming one and disappearing.

Then Murphy coughed and let go of the weapon. It fell to the floor making a soft thump against the lush carpet.

Muprhy coughed again and grabbed hold of Connor's shirt. "I can't..." The words were barely audible, but Connor heard them just fine.

I can't breathe.

"Okay, just take it easy. Relax right? Maybeif you relax you'll be able to..."

Breathe.

The look Murphy shot him was enough to shut Connor up. This wasn't a joke, this wasn't some kind of panic attack.

Connor didn't know what to do. He didn't even know enough to know if there was something he didn't know he wasn't doing. And so he stood beside his brother, with his brother's hand desperately gripping his shirt, and held on. He wasn't going to let Murphy go. He wasn't going to let this fucking thing take his brother. His stupid fucking brother who refused to wait long enough to even try and find an alternative solution.

Fuck.

Murphy lost his balance and even with Connor holding onto his arm he couldn't stay on his feet.

"Murph, listen to me, you've got to fight this." Connor pleaded. Of course Murphy was fighting, Connor was watching him fight right in front of him. Fuck, why wasn't he breathing?

Murphy looked up at him, and Connor watched his brother's eyes lose focus.

"Fucking hell." Connor felt the moment Murphy's hand went slack.

He felt for a pulse. Nothing. How the fuck was that possible? It couldn't be happening. Connor refused to let it happen. Connor didn't think about what he was doing. He lied Murphy on the floor and tilted his head back and breathed air into his brother's mouth. He didn't know how many he was supposed to do. What did they do in movies? Three? Five? He went with three. He looked up at the clock on the wall. Nine forty five pm. Then he pushed on Murphy's chest, he didn't even know if he was doing it right. He lost count at twenty. How many was he supposed to do? Three breaths. Lots of chest compressions.

Why couldn't he keep count? He kept watching Murphy's face, expecting him to wake up and start swearing any second, but nothing happened. Three breaths. Chest compressions. He did it over and over and over again. Nothing changed.

Ten thirty pm.

Nothing changed. How long could he keep doing this?

For as long as he needed to.

Eleven pm. Connor wiped the tears off his face. If he could bring Murphy back through will alone, it would already be done. If there was anything he knew of to do that would make a difference, he would do it.

"Fuck." Connor said softly. He took a deep breath and sat back. "Fuck." He said a little louder. He He shouldn't have stopped. He should have kept going as long as he needed to bring Murphy back. He shouldn't have given up. He couldn't stop staring at his brother.

"Fuck." He stood up and paced the room. What was he supposed to do now? He looked back at his brother, as if he would suddenly stop fucking around and start breathing again.

"What the fuck were you thinking, you fucking bastard?" Connor yelled. "We fucking had him. We could have figured something out. You didn't have to..." He drove a fist into the wall, a shock of pain shot through this fist and up his arm. It didn't drive out the pain from the inside. Murphy was dead. What was he going to do? What did any of it matter anyhow?

Fuck.

He needed to think of a way to get Murphy out of the building. He couldn't leave without his brother.

The thought overwhelmed him. How could he get his dead brother out of the apartment of the man they just killed?

He'd have to carry him. Just like how Murphy carried him to the hospital the morning after the bar fight with the Russians. Only he wouldn't be taking Murphy to the hospital.

Fuck.

He wasn't going to take him home to their apartment either. He'd have to figure something out. He'd have to call Ma. He needed to take Murphy back home to Ireland, have him buried with family. They could a ship like the one they came over on. Only this time it would... fuck.

Connor sat down beside his brother and gently entwined his fingers around his twins. He didn't want to be thinking about any of this, and he didn't want to be doing any of this. He wanted to take the gun and follow Murphy. But he couldn't. He wouldn't do that to their Ma. He needed to take Murphy home first, and then he could decide what to do next. Or what not to do. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain of it all, and didn't even try and stop the sobs from over taking him.

He'd never considered having to live a life without his twin.

And then he felt it. Murphy's fingers twitched.

It could be his mind playing tricks on him. Connor stared at his brother's fingers.

Murphy's hand twitched again, and Connor practically fell backwards as Murphy started coughing.

Fuck!

Connor pulled Murphy up into a sitting position and held him while he continued coughing.

For five whole minutes Murphy continued coughing, and even when he did stop Connor didn't let him go. It took about ten minutes after that for him to catch his breath, and then Murphy tried to sit up on his own but Connor stopped him. "Take it slow."

"What the fuck?"

Connor glanced over at the body in the corner. "You shot Doctor Reuben. I saw it Muprh, all that shadow stuff you were seeing. I saw it come out when you shot him, and I saw it come out of you too."

Murphy stared at the body for a brief moment. "I feel like I got hit by a truck." He brought a hand up to rub his chest and winced.

"You stopped breathing."

"We need to get out of here." Murphy said and pushed himself up again.

Connor didn't stop him this time. He was too amazed at the fact that his brother was moving at all to do much of anything. "Do you remember what happened?"

Murphy shook his head, no. "You're alright? You look like shit."

"You died, you asshole."

Murphy rolled his eyes. "Fuck off."

Connor didn't care. Murphy was alive. He didn't care if he didn't believe him. He was fucking alive.

They took the fire exit to avoid security cameras, and Connor stayed so close he was almost hugging him. They exited the way they came; through the parking garage.

They walked slow and Murphy had to stop and rest on a park bench half way to the subway station. "I'm fine." Murphy said without waiting for Connor to ask. He rested for about five minutes, and then they walked the rest of the way. All in silence.

Their train came and they got on and took a bench near the back. Murphy nudged Connor's shoulder. "Knock it off. You keep watching me like I'm going to croak."

"You did." Connor reminded him.

"I'm not dead, Conn."

"It's fucking true. You stopped breathing for over an hour."

"Maybe I should write a book. Make millions of dollars about dying and coming back to life."

"Do you remember any of it?"

Murphy nodded very seriously. "There was a bright light, and a whole bunch of flowers and people. Maimeó was there, and Móraí. And Uncle Darragh. Others too. They were all standing, ready to welcome... Ow." Murphy laughed and rubbed his arm where Connor punched him.

"Uncle Darragh isn't dead."

He laughed. "All I remember is watching you freak out."

"How about the shadow thing? I saw it come out of you. Do you feel any different?"

"Yeah. It's gone." Murphy answered. "No shadows, no glows, no headache. Nothing clawing at the inside of my skull. You have no idea what a relief it is." Murphy closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat.

"I thought I'd be taking you home to bury you. I understand relief."

Murphy was quiet for a while. "Sorry."

Connor nodded and leaned against his brother just a little bit. "Tired?"

"Yeah."

"Go ahead. I'll wake you."

Murphy mumbled something, and Connor watched him for a minute. Not that he expected Murphy to stop breathing again, but maybe because he was a little worried he might. Connor took him back to the safe house. He stayed awake only long enough to lie down and then he was asleep again. No nightmares. Nothing. Connor lied beside him, and if he fell asleep with a hand resting over Murphy's chest, he wasn't going to admit it to anyone. No fucking way.

Everything else could wait for tomorrow. He'd call Smecker and get things sorted out, and they'd go back to their own apartment, and everything would go back to the way it should be.

Tonight he would just appreciate having a living brother.

A/N: This is it. Thanks for reading, and if you liked the fic please leave me a review. Thanks so much for sticking with the story and reading it through, and thanks everyone who has reviewed, it means a lot to me to hear from you. I do a major happy dance every time I get feedback.


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